Protege
by AmyArachne
Summary: This is just a  taste of Sebastian's earlier life. Before Ciel, with his mentor, Arachne. His name is Kaslane though. It means feline... Hehehe just a joke for all the Kuroshitsuji geeks. Torture though, do not read if you get squeamish.


Protégé

The skin was smooth, white. A pulse beating visibly in the vulnerable throat. The body shuddered as I ran my finger down its hair-covered chest. There was sweat beading on its forehead even though the room was very chilly. So weak, pathetic, without clothes, or people to control. With all illusions of power stripped from him, he is no longer a Son of God, no longer a priest, or head of the church, he is simply a man. Chained to a wall, faced with the embodiment of what he has told countless ears to cast off, of which he himself had embraced. His watery blue eyes darted to my pale face; I knew what he was seeing.

My eyes; a deep red with pupils like a cats, my impossibly long blond hair flowed over my shoulder, my face an expression of cool curiosity, even amusement. Its terrified gaze then shifted to my protégé, leaning against the opposite wall. Black hair hanging elegantly in front of his eyes, black clothes hugging his body, the parts of his eyes you can see were so bright a red they were almost giving off their own light. Though his black wings that were streaked with white were hanging low, and his stance was casual, I could sense his anticipation, his eagerness.

He must learn to wait, to observe, to take pleasure in their emotional pain and fear, as well as their physical agony. I turned my attention back to the thing strapped to the wall.

"Do you know what you did wrong?"

It didn't answer. The body convulsed in fear and I watched with fascination as the muscles in its throat constricted, as if preventing him from speech. I have been on this earth for eons, from before what this man would consider time. Through all this one thing about humans has always puzzled me. Pride. I just didn't see the point in it. You see if he had answered my question the logical situation would be that he would get a prize, or maybe some sort of reward. Of course, that was not the case, but this was hardly a logical situation was it? Hmmm. Well he had some fight in him, I wanted to toy with him, but I believe Kaslane needed this more than I did. He had never done this before, not like this. He had never been given the chance to learn the most important lesson.

"Well then, since you refuse to answer we'll just have to keep that's stubborn mouth of yours shut won't we?"

I gave the Cat o' Nine tails in my hand a small flick, barely noticeable. It was my favorite weapon nine leather straps, each tipped with a sharp metal hook. Perfect for causing a lot of pain in one stroke, one person usually passed out after ten or so.

Kaslane moved forward eagerly, but then paused considering. His gaze slid over the needle and thread most would have chosen and his lips curved upwards at the sight of the candles, hanging from their wall on their holder. He plucked one from its place among the others with long, agile fingers and strode over to my side. His free hand reached out and tipped the flesh covered face backwards until it had no choice but to stare at the ceiling or its own nose. Kaslane slowly poured the hot melted wax over its lips, sealing them together. Tears poured down the sagging face and it struggled against the steel chains, it wisely kept its mouth shut, though that disappointed me slightly, it would have been fun to watch his face as realized that he had just caused himself more pain than was strictly necessary. I watched my protégé carefully, he had already surpassed my expectations, he was creative, and he had potential. This fact was being proven to me ever since his first kill.

'Kaslane?' I spoke his name gently and he turned to face me, handsome face alight with amusement and malice, making a beautiful and terrifying picture.

"I'm giving you free reign, but don't kill him unless I say so." He bowed his head in acceptance of my privilege and order. He chose the poker first, starting at the base of its sensitive feet and seared the sensitive flesh there with the hot metal. He seemed to be enjoying himself, drawing a measuring design on the sole of one foot and five tally points on the other. It writhed and tried to scream but the wax had solidified, preventing his lips from parting. All he was able to manage were whimpers, almost whines that sounded as if he had sandpaper stuck in his throat. Hmmm, I believe I had just given myself an idea. There was no pity or even disgust in my demon's eyes, simply the expression of a child presented with ice cream. Setting the poker back in its holder in the fire, he paused, gazing at the sac of flesh in front of him. In an almost hesitant move he plucked one of his own feathers, a white one. The tip sharper than any blade ever could be, and slowly ran the end across its stomach, directly above the pelvis bone. Then in a swift movement he began to write, carving words into the pale flesh, starting at the collarbone and moving downwards. Curious, I tilted my head and Kaslane immediately shifted so I could view his work. My teeth, similar to a shark's, were immediately bared in a laugh. The beginnings of the Hail Mary prayer were now carved into the 'Priest's' chest. The delicious irony of the act was delicious, I wanted to allow my fallen angel more freedom, but I couldn`t allow myself to spoil him. Giving into impulses was all too mortal after all. After a few minutes Kaslane drew back, and drops of scarlet trickled profusely from the cuts. After a moments consideration he let the blood-streaked feather flutter to the floor and snatched a steel nail from the side table. He twirled it elegantly in his long fingers, considering. I felt a pull in my throat and I knew I was being requested to consider a contract. Stepping forward I gently ran my fingers down my Fallen angel's cheek before I turned and left. I knew he would continue to follow my instructions. Two and a half hours later I returned. As I parted the heavy red curtains the first thing I noticed was that the priest was unchained. The sac of flesh lay huddled in the fetal position in a corner. Gray hair was matted and dried blood plastered his chest.

"Why did you release him?" I questioned the figure leaning against the wall to my right.

"Well," The figure responded "it's not lie he can run anymore."

The demon stepped forward and pulled the man up by the hair.

"Go ahead, run. I'm giving you a chance, no one will stop you."

I opened my jaws to speak but my teeth were immediately bared in laughter. I saw the man flinch as he took in my teeth, sharp as a shark's with three different layers. Where its feet would have been there were now two bloody stumps that were sealed over with wax. To keep him from bleeding out I suppose. He did have a thing for candles didn't he?

"I was waiting for you."

"Why? I told you, you have free reign."

"Yes, though I just wanted to confirm that you can torture them psychologically too, correct?"

I smiles gently, Oh yes. He had potential.

"Whatever you'd like." His eyes lit up, dragging a chair over, he almost threw the man into it.

Scooping up a couple o clean nails he twirled them consideringly between his fingers. The creature flinched, so now I knew where a couple of those deep cuts had come from.

With a moment quick as a thought he nails the fleshy palms to the wooden arms of the chair. My fallen angel slid down and sat on the floor in front of him. His head just reached the height of the man's chest, it was very ironic. His position was almost submissive, like he was the subordinate.

Locking his red eyes on the creature he just simply watched him. Then his eyelids fluttered down and he inhaled deeply. He had learnt the first lesson, to savour, to taste, to prolong, their pain, the fear that radiates from them in waves. To absorb it and let it make you stronger.

"What's your name?" Kaslane's smooth voice filled the silent room so suddenly I was almost startled. His eyes remained closed; if I had not known his voice and seen his lips move I wouldn't have known it was him. A moments silence passed and his lids lifted slowly, almost sleepily.

"Oh that's right, you can't talk." His voice held no apology or actual realization. He rose fluidly and hooked long pale fingers into the side of the gag and pulled. As the wax tore away harshly most of the skin around the mouth and lips tore off. It screamed as blood poured from the tiny numerous wounds.

"Now, what's your name?"

"E-Edward Lemarkois." His words were slurred as his lips swelled drastically.

Kaslane turned his eyes to me.

"You see I have a theory. Humans are so predictable, and so…" He paused "Trainable, like dogs. So I reasoned that since he must have realised that he got 'punished'" He smiled as he said that "the last time he didn't answer, so now he is quick to respond. Just like dogs, mouldable, trainable. Punishment" He gestured to the bleeding body in the chair. "And reward." He held up his open palms showing that no further pain was coming.

I laughed delightedly "You're not very fond or dogs are you?"

"Of humans either," Disdain filling the silky voice "Both disgust me."

I laughed, long and loud. I love Kaslane's brain. Original, creative, absolutely black. His attention switched back to the sack of flesh in the chair.

"Do you have parents?" Edward nodded "Answer me Edward, with your voice."

"Yes, I do."

"Are they alive?"

"Yes, one of them."

One black eyebrow rose slowly, and Edward almost tripped over his words to continue.

"My- my mother."

"Do you love your mother Edward? Do you want to see her when you get out Edward? Do you Edward?"

"Yes, Very much."

"Do you think she'll want to hug you Edward? When I'm done with you? When you've looked like you've gone through a wood chipper Edward? When you're so mauled she can barely recognize you?"

Edward gulped and he lapped at the blood pooling on his lips.

"Or maybe..." He said almost like the idea had just come to him "Maybe you'll look fine, when we return you. Maybe there won't be a scratch on you. But maybe she won't be so happy to have you back. If we tell her what you did. How you molested those choir boys. How you told them that you were cleaning them for your god, but it was a secret. That they couldn't tell anybody. Do you think she'll embrace you then, that she'll still love you? Do you Edward?"

"No, God please, no Lord please. Have mercy." Edward was crying now, begging.

"You pray to your god?" The demon mocked "Has your god helped you through this? Has he saved you, rescued you? Or sent you one of those vision you so often speak of? You god has abandoned you, you're alone. All alone."

Ripping the nails from the palms of the blubbering, begging man he chained the priest back up on the wall.

"Hmmm, he'll bleed out at this rate won't he?" He said almost absent-mindedly. He plucked yet another candle from the holder and began to seal the wounds that were bleeding profusely. With the mouth unbound screams reverberated off the cement walls. Sweet music to my ears, most primal of urges. Survival, just denying that urge was delicious.

Kaslane took a step backwards, as if to admire his handiwork. He rolled his shoulders and his wings spread, he shook them out. Clever move, this simultaneously intimidated and frightened the man and displayed to me that they were now pure, uninterrupted, untainted black. Then my protégé turned to me and gracefully sank down onto one knee. He touched his middle and pointer fingers to his forehead, black nails standing out in sharp contrast to his pale skin. He stretched his wings out to their full span, and his black and red eyes regarded me cautiously. He wanted to ask something of me? This was a first.

"Yes?" I inquired, curious.

"I wish to borrow your weapon."

Now my eyes flashed and my wings unfolded slowly. Long, black, made like a bats, made of a material like silk, yet indestructible. He was lucky, if he had not asked permission before he had requested such a favour. I observed my favoured weapon, twitched and observed it consideringly. Then with a twitch of the wrist I brought the nine hooked tails down on Kaslane's back. His eyes shut and lips tightened in momentary pain. He had to work on keeping his emotions concealed.

"What gave you the impression," I inquired softly. "that you had earned the right to request the use of my right hand?" Kaslane's shirt had four large tears in it and his jeans were shredded up the thighs.

"I was under the impression that you had grown fond of me." My fallen angel responded. "I apologize for my assumptions." I smiled, he would go far if he kept this up. Shame and humbleness, even fake, would help him along the way. I flipped the leather handle and stroked it gently across the side of his face. I reached out with my left hand and stroked the top of his wings. "Beautiful." I murmured and my fingers caressed the feathers that fluttered in the still air. Running my fingers through the midnight locks I pulled him up straight, bending his head back. I would have been painful for a human. I twisted it from side to side, yanking harshly. I ran the handle down the side of his exposed throat and tapped on his collar bone. "Take it. Use it wisely. Don't take him until I allow you." He snapped his head back into place and took the handle from my grip with a steady hand. His eyes betrayed his wonder, weighing the weapon in his palm. He flicked it experimentally, he seemed to pause, considering. Then he looked up and bowed. "Thank you Mistress." Then he snapped it across Edward's chest. Scabbed-over cuts or the prayer carved into his chest broke open and begin to dribble blood. Over and over again the nine leather tails snapped and struck the fragile flesh. They whistled and roared through the air. After the first twenty lashes the useless man stopped screaming, whimpers and occasional moans were wrenched from his throat. After fifty he was unconscious, the adrenaline rush running out.

"Stop." I murmured, the small sound almost overpowered by the sound of the cracks of the whips. But my protégé stopped immediately and he handed the blood stained whip back to me. I smirked at his anticipatory expression.

"Go enjoy yourself, you've ripened the fruit, go have it." Glee lit my demon's face as he advanced on the unconscious corpse. His longue tongue extending, he began to lap at the blood leaking down his chest and neck. He licked the bloodied jaw and lips, split from where the man had bitten them, clean. Long pale fingers roamed over the slack and sweat and tear drenched face. Caressing every crease and plane of the flesh and bone. They ran into ruffled grey hair, combing through it gently, pulling the head upright to stare into the closed eyes. Kaslane's red eyes closed and he breathed in deeply, holding the breath inside his body, where the lungs would be. The lifeless shell still hung from the wall, limp and as life like as a ragdoll. A very bloody, very torn, ragdoll. The eyes slid open again, revealing a calm shade of violet, the fallen angel gave off a satisfied and warm air. Even his hair seemed to become tamer. The perfect picture of tranquility stood in contrast to the horrifying surroundings. Broken chair, stained with crusted red ay to the side. A table with various instruments sat next to the far wall. Bloody nails and melted candles scattered throughout the room. The centerpiece hung from the wall, the useless sac of flesh dripping scarlet, all pride and bravado had deserted him. All of his morals and so called faith had dissipated as the welts had appeared and skin had parted.

"I think," I said softly, trying to not interrupt his peace. "I have the perfect boy for you."

He looked at me in a curious fashion.

"I believe it's time for your first time to have a collar around your neck. Play it smart."

He nodded and swept out of the room without a backwards glance. I smiled exiting behind him, my protégé. If he only knew the plans I had in store for him.


End file.
